Carry You Home (Carry Your Heart #2) (53 page)

Four hooded figures stalked through my shop wielding crow bars and bats and with each step, another crash. Another blow. Another wave of destruction. Breaking glass, smashing metal—it all pounded through my ears, but my adrenaline had me taking a different course. There was no time to even consider an alternative because I had a one-track mind now.

I turned on my heel to sprint back to my bed, hauled Isabelle to her feet, and pushed her to the window on the opposite end of my apartment.

"We gotta get outta here, Iz," the words tumbled out of me in a rush. "We're going down the fire escape, okay? Stay with me."

She nodded as I shoved the window open and gripped her hips to steady her climb through. I followed her once both her feet were solid on the makeshift metal stairs, pushing her head down, and putting myself out in front to shield her as much as possible. Which was lucky, too, considering the second we passed the shop's first story window, a cacophony of gunshots and shattering glass rained down on us.

"Get down!" I pushed out roughly and jerked away from the window just in time to narrowly miss another bullet.

The side of my neck stung and burned white-hot, but that was the least of my concerns right now. I wasn't hit and neither was Isabelle and beyond getting inside my truck, that was all that mattered. We just had to get to my truck—

Another round of bullets blasted through the walls of my shop, obliterating everything in its wake. We had to move.

"Go, Iz!"

My hands found her back to shove her in front of me so my body was squarely between her and my shop. Even though my knee was already locking up on me, I pushed the stiffness away and powered through it, letting adrenaline take me the rest of the way.

We rounded the corner of the building and took off into a hard sprint, moving as fast as we could through the open parking lot. My heart thudded in my chest as another bullet zipped past my neck, but I just had to keep her moving. Another string of bullets screamed out from behind us and I hauled Isabelle down to the pavement, covering her body with mine as much as possible until we got an opening.

My right bicep stung, but adrenaline pushed me through it. And kept pushing. And kept pushing until I was the one pushing Isabelle headfirst into my truck on the driver's side. Sirens blared down the street, but I just kept pushing.

"Keep your head down, Iz," I grunted as I turned the ignition to get us the hell out of there.

The pain in my arm had morphed into a sharp throb when I twisted the steering wheel to peal out of my parking lot. As soon as I had us speeding down the street and away from my shop, my hand clenched her thigh to make sure she was still in one piece.

"You okay?"

She nodded, wide-eyed and terrified, and then her eyes settled on the stream of blood dripping down my arm.

"It's just a graze," I shook my head, but kept my eyes on the road. "I'm alright."

We flew past a trio of squad cars and Isabelle whipped around to watch them head right for my shop.

"Where are we going?"

"Anywhere but here," I told her and kept my hand firmly on her thigh just to remind myself she was really okay and that we'd really survived this.

I could deal with everything else later.

My shop and everything in it was replaceable, but the cargo sitting next to me in my truck was not.

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About an hour later, and after I'd gotten the confirmation I needed from Saul, we pulled back into my shop's parking lot and I braced myself for the damage.

The parking lot was crammed full with trucks, motorcycles, and squad cars—I guess I shouldn't have been surprised. This was pandemonium, at least in Claremont terms. A break-in, a shooting, a hit, whatever this was, it wasn't something that happened here on a regular basis mainly because the Horsemen were smart enough to keep that off their turf as often as possible.

Cops and the club were the least of my problems right now. And as I surveyed the parking lot, some of the familiar faces surrounding me were exactly the ones I expected to see. Saul aside, I saw every single person I'd hired to work for me in the shop. They'd all shown up, faces etched in somber determination—this was their livelihood too and they needed it just as much as I did. Even Sam was here and I guessed that had more to do with the fact that Jared had been working his shift at their house tonight.

But I did not expect to see Dom and my mom standing off to the side, decked out in their familiar leather uniforms and trying to maintain a respectful distance.

I barely had time to nod their way because Chief Kelly and a few of his deputies had already descended.

For insurance purposes, this was exactly what needed to happen. I couldn't file any sort of claim without a police report, but at the same time, making this official could easily escalate this little situation faster than any of us could ever anticipate.

We gave our statements, each of us regurgitating the story exactly as Kelly needed to hear it for his report, and even when he warned me that his team was still taking pictures for evidence, I pushed right past him and headed straight for the garage, but I still skidded in my tracks when my feet crossed the threshold.

It was like someone had ripped my shop right off the ground and flipped it over on its side. Every project. Every work station. Every single piece of equipment. It was all destroyed. A fucking tornado might as well have torn through this place. There was broken glass, shards of metal, blown-out tires, overturned tables and chairs, dumped-out toolboxes and not a single square foot of concrete inside my shop had gone untouched.

Hands closed over my shoulders to keep me in place, but I wasn't with it enough to even know who was touching me.

All my blood, sweat, and tears...it was all gone. And with it, thousands and thousands of dollars-worth of damage.

The depth of my fury knew no bounds and all I could see was hot shards of red, splintering my vision and tearing through the little control I had left. Finally, I gave in to all the emotions I knew Wallace wanted me to feel—rage, devastation, helplessness, hopelessness—they were all here for this sick, twisted party.

So I picked up the first stray, leftover crowbar I could find and finished the job. My only victim, a mangled Yamaha that was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, weathered the brunt of my fury as I heaved that crowbar down into it again and again and again until I finally tossed the crowbar to the ground and kicked over what was left of it.

I crouched down to the ground with my head in my hands and squeezed my eyes shut before finally screaming muffled obscenities into my hands. Everything I'd built, everything I'd done and every sacrifice I'd made...it was all for nothing. I didn't need an insurance appraiser to tell me the damage done tonight wouldn't just take months to repair.

It would be
years.
Fucking
years
before I worked myself out from underneath this shit. The equipment and this building were insured, but everything else? All the business I had booked solid through the end of the year and beyond? My shop's reputation?

It was all dead now.

And now I just couldn't handle this pity party. Didn't want to see the sympathy and the horror on all their faces because it just mirrored what I already felt. I couldn't take this shit anymore.

Soft hands skimmed over my shoulders and I felt her crouch down next to me as she wrapped her arms around my waist to hold me tight.

"Iz," I croaked and shut my eyes to the sight in front of me. "There's glass everywhere and you're not wearing any shoes. You gotta stay away from me right now."

Her touch lifted for just a moment and then her face pressed into my shoulder. She shook her head and seemed to move in even closer.

"You're not wearing any shoes either," she reminded me softly.

"Yeah, well, I don't really give a shit about my feet."

She smiled into my shoulder. "Just mine?"

"Something like that," I muttered and scrubbed both hands over my eyes.

Isabelle's hands ghosted over the sides of my face and I gave in to her touch for a moment, letting the softness I found there drown everything else out. Reprieve was fleeting. Comfort felt hollow. And even though part of me just wanted to fall into her arms and cry myself into a pathetic stupor, it wouldn't erase what happened tonight.

So I pushed up to my feet, missing the feel of her hands on me the second they slipped away, and faced the crowd behind me with my hands on my hips and my resolve steeled. Their faces were just as grim as they were before, not like I expected anything different, and when my mom stepped forward, I wavered.

Her hands reached out, something I hadn't seen in years, and they closed around my shoulders, pressing me in tight and giving me a little bit of that unconditional love I'd always thought I had.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered in my ear. "This is just...our shop doesn't look much better than yours."

My head jerked back and my eyes shot over to Dom, who just nodded grimly. There wasn't much time to ruminate on the way she said
our shop
, as if it was an ever-present, not-so-subtle way of reminding me of all the ways she thought I'd failed her.

"Maybe it's time you finally came back to the clubhouse," she pushed on, her eyes pleading and watery. "You can talk to Marcus, figure out a plan, and then everyone can get in front of this before it gets worse."

Of course, by saying
everyone
she was lumping me in with the club. As if she'd ever do anything else. As if I could forget she'd all but frozen me out of her life. And as if she could read my thoughts and sense where this was heading, my mom's dark gaze flitted to Dom, who'd already stepped forward to intervene.

"Caleb," he told me, his voice gravelly and thick with emotion. "She's right. I think you gotta come back now, even if it's just to talk out what the next step needs to be."

I shook my head immediately, acutely aware that Isabelle had slipped underneath my arm on one side and that Saul stood his ground on the other so that they flanked me on both sides in a show of solidarity.

"I'm not gonna do that," I shrugged as my mom's face crumbled in a predictable mixture of disappointment, animosity, and worry. "I'm sorry. I just can't. The second I step foot in the clubhouse is the second I throw away everything I've built here and I'm not giving that up."

My mom stepped forward again to make her point. "But, Caleb, this isn't gonna stop.
He's
not gonna stop. You're both lucky as shit to be in one piece."

"I can handle it," I shot back and Isabelle's arm tightened around my waist.

"You're tellin' me you don't care that Isabelle could've gotten hurt? That she could've gotten
shot
?"

"Of course I care," I growled and pulled Isabelle closer to me just to reiterate my point. Just the thought of how this night could've ended differently had my blood boiling, but acting on that wouldn't help either. "Going after Wallace now isn't gonna do anything but throw more gasoline on the fire. Besides, I don't have a place at that table anymore. I think we've all made that pretty clear."

Her black eyes narrowed dangerously and in a flash, softened when they darted over to Isabelle.

"It's good to see you two back together," she murmured. "At least one good thing came out of all this stupid shit."

I sidestepped that comment and moved on. "I appreciate you coming down here. I really do, but I got it from here. You have your mess to clean up and so do I. Let's just leave it at that."

My mom stared at me for a moment and after her eyes flicked back to Isabelle one more time, she nodded tightly before turning on her heel to head back to the parking lot. Dom shot me a quick, uneasy smile and followed suit, falling in line like a good soldier.

I didn't waste any time to get this moving and turned to the rest of the crowd still standing here in the wreckage—my guys from the shop, Saul, Sam, and finally, Isabelle—and gestured with my head to the exit.

"I think everybody just needs to head out for the night. It's late and there's nothing we can do right now. I'll touch base with you all in the morning, okay? Just...just go home."

Luckily, all my guys knew me well enough to know when to argue and now was not one of those times. They shuffled out of my shop one by one and headed off into the night.

I nodded to Jared, who was still standing there waiting for some more instructions. "Take Iz and Sam home, alright?"

Jared and Sam moved for the exit, but Isabelle stayed right where she was and I geared myself up for that stubborn streak to rear its ugly head.

"Iz—"

"I'm not leaving you tonight," she shook her head furiously and folded her arms across her chest. "And you can't stay here either. Please tell me you're not planning on staying here for the rest of the night."

I glanced wearily at Saul, who just nodded. "I'll crash at Saul's place tonight."

"Fine," she shrugged. "Then I'm coming with you."

"No, Iz," I sighed and rubbed a hand over my mouth. "You can't. Not after what happened tonight. It's not safe for you to be around me right now. Jared's gonna stay at the house tonight with you guys, Trent'll be there in the morning, and Dylan'll be there tomorrow night. That's just the way it's gotta be."